Collide
by Bleeding Destruction
Summary: "No one insults me without... retribution." Torque plunged the blade deep into the green-skinned male's stomach. He drew the blade down the petite male's cheek, and watched the jade blood drip out of the cut, fascinated. ZADF, ZAGIF.


_**Title:**__ Collide_

_**By: **__Bleeding Destruction_

_**Began:**__ March 28, 2012 (EDITED: October 13, 2013)_

_**Summary: **__"No one insults me without... retribution." Torque plunged the blade deep into the green-skinned male's stomach. He drew the blade down the petite male's cheek, and watched the jade blood drip out of the cut, fascinated. ZADF, ZAGF._

_**Warnings:**__ Violence and minor language._

_**Author's Notes: **__To be honest, the only true edit I put in here was removing most of the song lyrics. This used to be a songfic to Collide by Skillet. Now, it's just strongly based off the song. There is a slight reference to Harry Potter in there. If you catch it, you can have a cookie or a oneshot!_

XXXXXX

A green-skinned boy hastened through an alleyway with a splash, pausing fleetingly to hiss at the puddle he stepped in as his foot smoked. His flesh was littered with heavily blackened and darker emerald burn marks. The ebony hairpiece on his head was slightly crooked, allowing an antenna to poke through, and he was missing a contact, leaving one eye with a violet iris, and the other a deep maroon lacking in whites. His three-digit hands were gloved, and his magenta shirt was torn.

He met a dead end and spun around. A pale-skinned boy raced towards him and the green-skinned male could see his own anxiety reflected in golden eyes. The pale-skinned teen's scythe-shaped hair drooped into his face, weighted down from rainwater, and his trench coat and pale blue shirt were soaked through.

"Zim," the scythe-haired adolescent whispered. "Is there any way out?"

The green-skinned boy shook his head. "No, Dib. We are trapped."

"I thought you'd say that," Dib responded. "Just brace yourself- it'll hurt less."

Zim nodded, and stood there stiffly, devoid of all emotion. Dib did the same. Another male strolled up the alleyway, almost insouciantly; he sneered as he released his hand weight and flexed his muscles.

"Scared?" He called derisively.

Zim returned insubordinately, "You wish!"

The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small but very sharp looking blade. Dib recoiled as though struck. "This- It'll- He's not going to beat us up; he's going to _kill us_! Zim… why'd you have to insult him?"

"He was beating you up," Zim barked. "I was trying to stand up for you! That's more than _you_ can say for me!"

"Torque! Be reasonable," Dib appealed to the boy, his back pressed against the barrage.

"No one insults me without... _retribution_," the well-muscled boy pronounced the last word disdainfully.

"Zim," Dib hissed out of the side of his mouth, "use your spider legs to get us out of here!"

"Can't- my PAK was shut down weeks ago. Barely keeps me alive now." Zim never stopped glaring at Torque- which only made it worse for the green-skinned male.

Torque reached his destination at last, and fixed his eyes upon Zim. "You're first."

Zim glared at Torque, and then he balled his three-fingered hands into tight fists, fully intending to fight back. He threw a well-aimed punch at Torque's torso, sending the human back a few feet. Torque plunged the blade deep into the green-skinned male's stomach. He ripped the knife out of Zim's flesh, twisting cruelly, and plunged it back in. Dib looked away as Zim cried out in pain this time. Torque cut at Zim's wrists- making a jab at his self-inflicted scars. He drew the blade down the petite male's cheek, and watched the jade blood drip out of the cut, fascinated.

A new teen came running down the alleyway, as Dib heard Zim collapse to the ground. Dib recognized this purple-haired female as his sister, and felt hope bubble up in his chest. She didn't care for him, but she'd want him alive. She'd draw him away. "Torque! Someone's coming!"

To anyone but Dib, they'd think she was truthful. But Dib knew. No one was coming, but Zim and Dib would be better off not being stabbed brutally in a murky lane. Torque shot one last glare at the two boys and fled. Dib silently thanked his sibling as he fell to his knees and pulled Zim close. "Don't you dare give up on me!" He cried, hoisting the green-skinned male upwards.

Dark green blood poured from the wounds on Zim's stomach, and the deep cuts on his wrists weren't much better. "Dib, _I don't give up_," he murmured weakly.

Dib sprinted down the alleyway, and skidded as he turned the corner heading for the more appealing parts of town. "Does your base still work?"

Zim's eyes slid closed woozily. "Somewhat. Computer and Gir will help you…" The male hummed softly; it was a serenade from his smeethood. Lyrics slipped off his tongue sluggishly, somewhat slurred together. "_There's something deep inside that keeps my faith alive, when all you can do is hide from the fear that's deep inside of you!"_

"What are you singing, Zim?" Dib huffed as he ran down the pavement, approaching Zim's home.

"Something you need to keep in mind," Zim answered quietly, kicking his feet to the rhythm in his head.

Dib neared the col-de-sac with the strange, alien-looking home. Zim's breaths were light and fluttery now. "Hold on, you stupid alien!" Zim didn't respond; he was merely dead weight in the human's arms, and very comatose at this point. The house was within a few steps.

A little green dog flung open the door. "MARY! IS MASTAH SLEEPIN'?"

"Not if I have anything to say. Gir, can you get us in the labs?" Dib requested, holding Zim closer.

Gir grinned manically. "Nope," he cried cheerfully.

"Computer?" Dib called, frustrated with Gir's lack of help.

"Here's the first aid." The computer dropped a giant box on top of Gir ("IMMA TABLE!" Gir shrieked- at least_ he _was happy.) and Dib pressed the open button.

The box expanded into a hospital-like area. Dib gently laid Zim on the table in the center. "How do I stop the bleeding?"

"Sorry this isn't very helpful, but lots of gauze and pressure." Computer offered. "Even in its locked state, the PAK will heal him if he doesn't die from blood loss."

Dib found the gauze and scissors rather quickly, and in silence, he cut the alien's shirt off (knowing that later Zim would be pissed), and wrapped the gauze around the smaller male's middle and wrists quickly, making sure to wrap it tightly. Dib pressed on the wounds with his hands, applying pressure. Zim twitched in his unconscious state, and Dib, for the first time in his life, looked to the skies and prayed ('that if there was a God, would he please save Zim?').

XXXXXX

Zim awoke some time later. The soreness in his middle and the burning sensations along his wrists made him wish (not for the first time recently) that his PAK was not in its shut down state, because sedatives surely would get rid of the sting- along with the frustration he felt at life. The green-skinned male refused to open his eyes. "Where am I?"

"You're in your base," a soft voice answered. Zim recognized this voice as Dib's.

Zim smiled. "You brought me here, yes?"

Dib responded, "I did."

"I owe you my life." Zim declared.

"No, not really; I got you in this mess." Dib answered, sorrow seeping into his voice.

Zim sat up instantly, groaning inwardly at the protest his squeedily-spooch put up. His maroon eyes jerked open, and Zim noticed the burning in his left eye- he must have passed out with the contact still in. He quickly took the purple and white object out and chucked it away hatefully, fixing his eyes on the human sitting on his couch. Dib's eyes were red and puffy, and tear tracks stained his face. "Do not insult me, Dib. I may not have much left, but I do have my life, and it is the only way for me to repay you. Now come, let's go to skool." Dib stood quickly, rushing over to offer help to Zim. Zim ignored the offered hand and forced himself off the uncomfortable table, immediately noticing something. "Where is my shirt?"

"I had to cut it off to stop your bleeding," Dib said apologetically.

"Dammit, Dib, that was my best shirt!" Zim exclaimed, frustrated.

Gir took this moment to speak up. "It was your only shirt," he sang.

"Shut the fuck up," Zim responded with a healthy dose of venom (considering who he is).

Gir grinned manically. "Not until I get a taco."

Zim spat angrily, "Hell no."


End file.
